


For What It's Worth, I'd Do It Again

by callmejude



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 13:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmejude/pseuds/callmejude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between finding Newton seizing on the floor and running to get Pentecost, Hermann needs to make sure Newton is okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For What It's Worth, I'd Do It Again

The first thing Newt sees when he comes to from the kaiju Drift is Hermann kneeling over him with tears streaming down his face. Newt has never seen Hermann cry before, he never seemed like he even _could_. It’s somehow more unsettling than the roaring hivemind still clawing at the edges of his brain.

Hermann is shouting at him, but it takes a long time for the words to become recognizable syllables. All he can take in is loud noises and crying, and shuts his eyes. He wonders if the rangers feel like this coming out of a Drift, or if this is just because he drifted alone with an alien monster. It feels like a panic attack. Everything’s too loud. Hermann’s fear is bleeding into him and he doesn’t even have anything to be afraid of.

 _I’m fine,_ he wants to say, _Stop worrying, I’m fine._

After several seconds, he finally understands, “Newton! Can you hear me?” _Yes_ His throat’s too raw to say it out loud. “Newt, look at me, please. Say something. Look at me.”

He opens his eyes and Hermann lets out a loud breath.

He sounds wrecked. Newt remembers the countless times Hermann has told him to shut up, the exasperated groan clenched behind his teeth as he begged for silence. Now he sounds desperate, pleading. His hands are on Newt’s face and he’s staring unblinkingly in his eyes and he’s still crying.

It’s weird. Newt wishes he knew how to make him stop.

“Newt, please. Are you - are you all right, I need - _say something, for the love of-_ ” Hermann’s choking on his words, which is something else Newt has never seen him do. It’s starting to worry him. He reaches up and grabs onto Hermann’s arm and blinks.

“ _Gott im Himmel,_ ” Hermann lets out in a breath, pulling Newt to his chest. He’s shaking. Or maybe that’s Newt, he can’t tell. He’s holding him so close. “ _Du_ Trottel.” He hisses into Newt’s hair, “ _Gott sei Dank, du bist in Ordnung._ ” His voice is so quiet, Newt wonders if Hermann even means for him to hear what he’s saying.

“Hermann,” Newt croaks, and Hermann’s grip on him tightens as he lets a shuddering breath out against his temple. “The - the Breach, Hermann,” Newt starts, but Hermann cuts him off.

“I don’t care,” he says, which is common in and of itself. Hermann never acts like he cares about anything Newt has to say, generally, but his voice is different this time, low and soft. He’s crying. He’s still crying. 

“Hermann…” other words are coming to him now, but Hermann’s name is easy, familiar. Maybe if he says it enough, Hermann will stop crying. “They’re a hivemind,” he says, because he can’t help it, he can still feel them. They miss him, now that he was there. They want him back. He feels dizzy.

“Okay,” Hermann says in a way that makes Newt think he isn’t listening at all.

“Get Pentecost,” Newt tells him, but he can’t let go of Hermann’s arm, and Hermann doesn’t try to disentangle him. “Hermann,” he forces out, “I’m - I was right. Get Pentecost.”

Hermann doesn’t move except to press fingers into Newt’s neck. He’s checking his pulse. Why is he checking his pulse? “In a moment,” he answers finally. “I need to make sure you didn’t suffer any neurological damage. I can’t believe you would be so _stupid_.”

Before Newt can even roll his eyes Hermann’s checking his face again. “Give me your name and the date.”

Newt sighs. “Hermann…”

“That’s _my_ name,” Hermann snaps, and Newt can’t tell if he’s trying to be funny or not, but he laughs anyway. It’s raspy and hurts his throat, and the look on Hermann’s face tells him it doesn’t sound like much of a laugh at all.

Newt’s fingers are still clenched in Hermann’s shirt. He tightens his grip and says as clearly as he can, “My - my name is Newton Geiszler and it’s Dec - December twenty-eighth, twenty-twenty-five. I’m six months younger than you and...have twice as many doctorates.”

“That last bit was uncalled for,” Hermann says, but he almost looks like he’s smiling.

“You - you looked like you needed to remember that you hate me,” Newt smirks. It feels strange to have his words take so long to say.

Hermann’s smile vanishes, and Newt feels a little guilty, though he’s not entirely sure why. “I’m kidding,” he adds, but it comes out sounding like a question. Hermann scowls at him, and Newt has never been more confused in his life. He looks down at the floor.

“Your shoe...your shoe is coming off,” he says, pointing, but then realizes their position. This has to be killing Hermann. “Doesn’t this hurt your leg? Where’s - where’s your cane? Why are you on the floor?”

“Because you’re on the floor,” Hermann answers, too quickly, and Newt blinks. Hermann looks a little startled by his own words. After a second he says, “Can you get up?”

Newt shakes his head. He can’t really feel his legs. His head is still spinning.

“Ah, okay…” Hermann sounds small, ten years younger. He looks around for a moment before spotting a chair a few feet away. “Okay, if you lean on me can you make it to that chair?”

Newt frowns. “Dude...if I lean on you, can _you_ make it to that chair?”

Instead of answering, Hermann hoists him to his feet. Newt squawks and Hermann sounds like he was expecting Newt to weigh less. Newt tries to pull away and sit back down on the floor, but Hermann won’t let go and drags him to the chair, leaving his cane on the floor.

Stubborn bastard.

He dumps Newt into the chair a little clumsily, and then eases to the floor beside him, clenching his teeth and clutching his thigh.

“I told - are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Hermann says tightly, “What’s the last thing you remember before you Drifted?”

“Are you seriously still -”

“Answer the question, Newton.”

Newt thinks about it, and then feels instantly guilty. _Blaming you._ “Uh, setting up the...the experiment on my recorder. Don’t - don’t listen to that.”

Hermann looks at him then, but doesn’t ask. He gets to his feet, and Newt realizes he had been so busy with Newt he’d left his shoe on the other side of the lab with his cane. Hermann seems to notice as well, and walks stiffly to the other side to put his shoe back on and grab his cane before walking to the sink.

Newt watches him get a glass of water and walk back, handing the water to Newt. Newt stares at it for a long time before realizing he’s supposed to take it, and lets Hermann press it into his hand.

“I’m - I’m going to get Pentecost,” he says slowly. “Don’t…” his hand reaches out as if he’s going to touch him, and instinctively, Newt tenses. He’s not used to touch from anyone, least of all Hermann, and isn’t sure what to expect.

To his horror, Hermann freezes, noticing, and his expression looks entirely dejected. His hand stays hovering in midair for a moment before he drops it to his side. “Don’t move,” he says, his voice clipped.

He stands there for a moment before turning on his heel. 

Newt stares at the water glass in his hand and wipes blood from his nose.

**Author's Note:**

> title from "What Do They Know?" by Mindless Self-Indulgence
> 
> German should (hopefully) translate to:  
> "God in Heaven"  
> "You _moron._ Thank God you're all right."
> 
> halfway through writing this I realized it could be read as a prequel to "And We Are Beginning" but really it was inspired by that dumb gif going around tumblr where they tried filming a scene and apparently Burn was acting "too upset" and his sTUPID SHOE WAS FALLING OFF AND I COULDN'T FOCUS ON ANYTHING ELSE BECAUSE HIS SHOE.
> 
> ...I've had a long week, humor me.


End file.
